


devouring

by ninemoons42



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Consentacles, Explicit Consent, Gratuitous Smut, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Venom (2018), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: There are black lines of secrets threaded into the skin and bones and body of the Crown Prince of Lucis.





	devouring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johanirae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johanirae/gifts).



> Too much black-goo-symbiote-loving on my social media is -- not a bad thing at all, because at least I can do something like this and it’s not too freaky at all XDXD [she said! _not_ freaky! Hahahaha!]
> 
> my other Omen!Noct nsfw ficlet on tumblr: [curse of gold](https://ninemoons42-lestallumhaven.tumblr.com/post/173620797586/smuturday-prompto-this-week-was-worshipping)

Heart hammering like thunder in his own ears, like the storm itself had somehow broken into him and set him alight and shaking, nerve impulses gone wild and haywire and tiny with fear, tiny with the twist of terror in the very soles of his feet, hooked right into his guts and -- tugging, but where could he go now? Where could he run to?

And there was that other instinct, too, the one that he didn’t want to think of, the one that he wanted to scream out: the instinct to fall to his knees and just. Give over. Let go, and let himself be taken.

Prompto pressed himself back again into the corner of his room -- that was one of his instincts, the prey-voice, the fear that tremored its keening breathless counterpoint against his heart.

He also reached out to the shifting shadow-shape that was coming closer, that was drifting closer. Not quite walking -- not just because Noctis had been completely consumed by the golden-black void that had seeped out onto his skin, that had run over and cracked open like fissures, like faultlines, that had flowed into his eyes and turned the irises the red-brown of drying blood, that had flowed into his mouth and sharpened his teeth into predator-edges, into sword-gleam -- and that was the other instinct. Not to be prey but to be -- possessed --

“Noct?” he asked, hating the quaver in his own breaths, in that one tentative word.

“Not -- not just me,” is the unraveling deep rasp of an answer, like layers upon layers of Noctis’s actual voice and the way he sometimes shouted, when he was going through sword-forms -- but the layers were all out of sync, were all out of step, and so he sounded rough and dark and --

“Daemons?”

“No. This isn’t the Scourge. Prompto. I can leave if you’d rather.” That darkness, feral, roiling, seemingly withdrawing --

“ _No!_ ” And Prompto shot back to his feet, threw himself forward -- the floor was rushing up to meet him -- and it wasn’t Noctis’s arms that moved to catch him.

Not the human arms, not those calloused hands or those pretty wrists, the lines of old jagged glass-scars -- what moved against Prompto, what caught him, were slick shapes, shadow-shifting, cool against his skin and that wasn’t the only thing that made him shiver. Tapering, questing, those long inhuman limbs carefully twining around him. Holding him up, holding him fast, and -- he refused to call the sound that escaped his mouth a squeak, or a scream, or anything fearful -- because that was exactly the truth.

He was not afraid, he couldn’t be -- not even as he was being lifted off the floor by more of those limbs, the strength of them plain from the way he was effortlessly raised higher than Noctis’s own eye-level, grip around his ankles that he struggled against only to know if they would keep holding him -- and after he was sure, after he felt the limb that coiled gently just at his waist, just above his hips, supporting his weight -- after he saw the tilt of Noctis’s head, those eyes that were still _Noctis_ looking at him calm and eerie and unblinking -- 

After he was sure, he nodded. Slow and certain and exaggerated movement. 

Took a breath and stopped struggling to get away, and let himself hang from where the dark shapes were holding him open and pliant and obedient before Noctis. 

He said, “Okay. Okay. I -- Noctis?”

“Prompto.” Still those inhuman echoes.

But he didn’t shy away from that gaze despite all the other fears clamoring in the back of his head. He did the opposite: he tried to lean forward, tried to smile. 

And said the words he’d been keeping all along behind his teeth. “Have me.”

Blink, blink, those strange gleaming eyes, like a starless blank sky. “Why.”

“Because I want you to. Because I want _you_.”

“Even with this?”

“I’m not gonna lie and tell you I have no idea what’s going on. Not gonna lie and tell you I’m not scared -- ”

“I can taste that you’re scared.” And Noctis was licking his lips, thoughtfully -- but there was something wrong with his tongue, too, something off -- like it was longer, like it was more of a tapering sharp point, echoing his teeth -- echoing the tips of the black-mottled limbs that weren’t human arms. 

“Yeah. I am.” The thought hit him, then. “What else can you taste?”

He sort of expected -- more limbs, maybe, coming around to grab him? He could see the masses of them, the shapes of them, like they were moving in some kind of ghost-wind, moving behind Noctis and over his head, framing him in their slow whip-movements.

But no: it was Noctis’s actual hand that he could feel, holding him, a warm almost-gentle grip that held his jaw and his chin fast -- and then that hand moved, down, and Prompto couldn’t stop himself from gasping -- from pressing closer -- when he felt the pressure of Noctis’s palm against his throat, against the convulsive bob of his adam’s apple.

“Hn,” he heard Noctis say -- how did he know that sound was a pleased sound? How did he know to expect the smirk that briefly tugged the corner of Noctis’s mouth upward? 

“I can taste that you want me,” he heard Noctis say --

He closed his eyes, he opened his mouth, and -- there was no room to talk, not when he was being kissed so thoroughly, so knowingly. Mouth and lips and tongue working hot and demanding and insistent, hands holding him and tilting him this way and that, and -- he knew how to kiss but he didn’t know this, didn’t know a kiss that took and took and took and he started struggling to get closer -- he wanted to give, and to give, and he wanted to taste this kiss for himself, wanted to taste Noctis and whatever -- whoever else he was -- 

“No” -- a word against the corner of his mouth -- and he realized that he was fighting the black limbs that were holding his hands out to the sides, holding his arms still, that kept him from reaching out for Noctis. “No. Not now. You gave yourself to me. You said I could have you.”

Prompto caught his breath. “I -- yeah I did.”

The smile he got in return _was_ pure Noctis in return, sweetly gratified -- and then it vanished again into the dark shadow of him. Teeth, those edges pressing in deliberately and Prompto moaned, already losing himself -- he could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck, the tremors in his hands and feet, the rush of blood in his veins and the ache between his legs that was growing more and more insistent, more and more needing, with each passing moment.

Noctis was pulling away, and Prompto opened his eyes, dazed, and the first thing he saw was the thin strand of saliva that was still connecting their mouths in such close and intimate proximity and -- again he let himself shudder, again he made himself go limp and open and submissive, and he dropped his gaze -- felt and heard the growl of Noctis that was almost approving and that, too, seemed to go straight to his cock.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

And with the way he was looking down, there was no way he could look away from those black limbs coiling against him, more and more, and -- they moved against each other, focused, _knowing_ , and he was helplessly drawn into the tide of them, the motions of them. Limbs and tips sliding between his shirt and his skin and pulling the sweat-soaked material away, over his head, to land with a damp soft sound on the floor. Limbs and tips working the button-flies on his too-tight jeans and he let out a pleased needy moan when the pressure on his cock fell away -- a moan that was cut short when a black limb reared right up into his line of sight and tapped once against his mouth.

He looked up: “Noctis?”

“Taste,” but it wasn’t a command, Prompto almost thought. Was it a request? Was it a suggestion?

“Still you,” he said.

Again that sweet smile. “Still me. Yeah.”

“Okay,” Prompto said, and he opened his mouth and bobbed down, closing the distance between himself and the limb and -- it was shifting, inside his mouth, changing shape to fit exactly, not too large that he’d choke or stop breathing, not too small that he couldn’t struggle to swallow around it. The taste of it like -- almost like skin and then almost like dust, not unpleasant, heavy and _there_ on his tongue -- 

And it thrust into him, sure and smooth and firm weight.

He would have screamed, he would have cursed, he would have -- what would he have done, if he hadn’t had that part of Noctis inside him? 

He didn’t want to find out -- he was too busy remembering what he needed to do -- and he hollowed his cheeks out on a careful breath.   
Went down on that limb that was filling him up and -- he heard Noctis groan and it was a pure forbidden thrill down every last inch of him -- 

Movement along his skin, the slip and the slide of the rest of Noctis, holding him firmly and touching him at the same time -- and those tides of touch were gentle at first and then -- became more insistent, more demanding of his attention -- he did shout around the black limb in his mouth when he felt the fine whisper-strokes of touch over his nipples. Around the rim of his navel. 

One limb, or perhaps it was two, he was already spinning well out of the reach of his own senses and his own thoughts -- contact, impossibly limber and deft and wrapping itself around his cock, like a ring at the base to taunt him, to let him _feel_ how turned on he was, and then a squeezing rhythm, better than his own hand, pulling and stroking and beyond his control.

Limbs winding high up around his legs and still moving, up his thighs, up over his ass, up to -- the first touch at his entrance --

And it all crashed in on him and he let go of the limb that he had been sucking. He opened his eyes to see Noctis.

Noctis who looked like he’d taken off all his clothes -- his skin was the same black as all the lines wrapped around Prompto, from the shoulders on down -- and he was wrapped in all those coiling and uncoiling limbs, too, in a way that made it clear they were all springing from him, that he was the source and the heart of them -- and he looked hungry, he looked needy, staring Prompto right in the face.

“I can still have you? I can still have this?”

“Yes,” he almost stuttered the word out in his haste to say it. “But.”

“Hn?”

“Can I have you, too?”

Those strange eyes, fixed on him still, blank with something like shock, Prompto thought. 

And -- shit, was he wrong? Had he said something he shouldn’t have? He opened his mouth again, strained to raise one hand to touch Noctis and -- the limbs that had been holding that hand in place went loose, came uncoiling, and he felt his own eyes widen: “Noct!”

Hand, that was Noctis’s actual hand, catching his wrist, holding him. 

And that was Noctis, the reality of him, smiling and kissing the center of his palm, still looking at him even as that pointed tongue licked over the lines in his skin. “Yes. You can have me.”

Not a surprise, when the limbs tilted him forward, still raised a little over Noctis so he had to lean down and forward to be kissed -- he was vulnerable, in that position, he realized as Noctis laughed into his mouth, licked at the edges of his teeth. 

Relief, enervating, making him smile, as he gave himself over into Noctis’s hands touching his face, the black limbs seeking out the pleasure-spots of him -- this was Noctis, surrounding him completely, touching him and knowing him and owning him, and he whispered garbled grateful overwhelmed: “Yes, Noctis, please -- ”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr at my FFXV sideblog [@ninemoons42-lestallumhaven](http://ninemoons42-lestallumhaven.tumblr.com/) or at my main [@ninemoons42](http://ninemoons42.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
